Post-Human Trilogy

by David Simpson

  The yellow dust covering the ground was closing in below them, its surface gleaming in the sunlight as it crawled like a yellow, living fog. The impact crater into which they were supposed to be touching down wasn’t visible.

  A horrifying possibility suddenly reached into Craig’s skull and drummed its frozen fingers over his brain. The time readout was now below twenty seconds. “Oh no,” he whispered. “I’m taking command!” Craig suddenly shouted, nearly screaming in desperation. “Open your chutes now! Override! Override!”

  “Belay that order!” Commander Wilson shouted back.

  “Override! Override!”

  Ten seconds…

  “Follow protocol, SOLO!” Wilson screamed.

  “The telemetry’s wrong! Open! Open!” Craig bellowed furiously. He opened his chute, the wind catching it hard as it unfurled, tugging him into a dramatic deceleration. The other members of his team fell away into the yellow dust, disappearing as though they’d been figments of his imagination.

  Craig continued to float downward for several seconds, the yellow dust reaching upward to envelop his boots. “SOLO team, do you copy? Commander Wilson? Do you copy?”

  The silence continued for a few seconds more before, finally, Weddell’s voice crackled through the interference. “Doc! Commander Wilson is…he’s dead, sir.”

  10

  Craig touched down in a thick yellow cloud of dust. His parachute ejected automatically so he wouldn’t be dragged away into the dust storm. Above, the sun’s rays were nearly visible, suggesting that the dust cloud was abating, as predicted, but for now, he was blinded, with only his HUD to guide him. “Weddell, I’m on your three o’clock,” Craig said, “fifteen meters away.”

  “Copy.”

  The green dot on Craig’s HUD that signified Wilson was also still active, and Weddell’s dot was next to it. Cheng and Klein had vanished. Craig strode in his exoskeleton, only a few steps taking him most of the way to the quickly materializing silhouette of Weddell, leaning over the crumpled form of Wilson. A couple strides more, and the image came into focus, the stark reality of Wilson’s nearly pulverized body emerging.

  “You were right, Doc,” Weddell said as he turned his head to look up at Craig. “The telemetry was all wrong. I played it safe and followed your orders at the last second. My chute opened in time, but I hit the surface hard.” He turned and looked down at his fallen officer-in-charge. “Commander Wilson didn’t even open his chute. He…God, he hit the ground at terminal velocity.” He shook his head. “I saw him hit.”

  Craig dropped to his knees and tried to get a view of Wilson’s face, but the commander had fallen face down, and his helmet had burrowed into an impact crater of its own creation. Craig could read Wilson’s absent vitals on his HUD, so it seemed true that the commander was, indeed, dead. But the SOLO team were super soldiers. “There might still be hope,” Craig said to Weddell.

  “What? What are you talking about? I saw him hit the ground myself. He’s dead as dead, Doc.”

  Craig pushed Wilson’s pulverized body so that it turned over, revealing the golden reflective facemask. He popped Wilson’s mask up so he could see inside the helmet; the visor was splashed with blood, but Wilson’s head appeared to be intact. “The respirocytes,” Craig replied. “His brain is still getting oxygen. If I can get him into suspended animation fast enough—”

  “I understand,” Weddell quickly said. “SOLO team, do you copy?” The radio crackled for a few moments, but there were periodic pops and chirps, and one sounded like it might be a voice. “Did you hear that?” Weddell asked Craig.

  “Yes. Weddell, they were on the far right of the formation.” Craig stood to his feet and stepped a few paces through the yellow dust before he quickly stumbled over a ledge, tumbling onto his stomach, digging hard with his exoskeleton’s strength into the earth to keep from tumbling further down the steep incline. “Damn it! Weddell, we just missed the crater! It was to the south! If Klein and Cheng opened manually, they might have made it!”

  “That makes sense,” Weddell replied excitedly. “The crater goes down one kilometer. If they’re far enough down there, that would explain why we can’t get radio contact through all the interference.”

  Craig finished crawling back up over the lip of the crater and returned to see Weddell standing, having retrieved his twin machine guns from his backpack. The guns were gigantic, and the armor-piercing bullets made them far too heavy to be carried by a regular human; fortunately the exoskeleton did 100 percent of the heavy lifting.

  “I can head down there,” Weddell said determinedly. “If they’re already there, I’ll establish contact, and we can still finish the mission. You should stay here and wait for Robbie to return. We might need that thing after all.”

  “There’s a problem with that plan,” Craig replied.

  “What?”

  “I don’t think that was just a glitch with our telemetry. I think we were sabotaged. New coordinates were fed to us at the last minute, pushing us off target so we’d miss the crater and hit the outer surface.”

  “Are you saying—”

  “The A.I. is still functioning. Somehow, it detected us and tried to defend itself.”

  Weddell’s face was ghost white. “That’s bad news, Doc.”

  “If you get down there and don’t make contact with Cheng and Klein, my advice is that you toss as much Semtex down that hole as you can and haul your ass back up. We’ll head back to the extraction point and report what we know.”

  “Agreed,” Weddell replied. “Stay here. I’m going to go dark pretty quick with all this interference, but I’ll contact you ASAP, when I’m making my way back up.”

  “Good luck,” Craig replied as he watched Weddell jog into the yellow fog and disappear over the lip of the crater.

  He turned back to Wilson and got down to his knees. The commander’s face was pale and lifeless—a horrific sight. Only minutes ago, he had been alive and in his element, guiding his team and helping the rookie make it safely to the surface. Now he was nothing. Just a bag of tenderized meat.

  Or was he? The respirocytes had changed the game. Craig knew if his brain continued getting oxygen until the S.A. bags arrived, Wilson might just have a slim chance. His body had been destroyed, but as long as he could get to a hospital before he suffered brain death, survival was still possible.

  “Robbie? Robbie, do you copy?” Craig asked over the radio. Robbie’s signal wasn’t appearing. The robot could run three times the speed of a human sprinter and sustain that pace for hours until his lithium air battery finally gave out. As long as Robbie was able to open his chute in time to avoid being pulverized on a rock somewhere, he should be rapidly approaching, but would he make it in time? “Robbie?” Craig said again, forlornly. It was unlikely that his communication would carry further than the Wi-Fi signal that detected his location.

  Suddenly, Robbie’s green dot appeared on Craig’s HUD. Robbie was less than 200 meters away and approaching with supernatural swiftness. He’d be there in less than five seconds. “Robbie! Thank God! We’ve got a man down!”

  The dot continued its rapid approach. The dust was beginning to settle, and Craig could peer further through the yellow storm. Robbie’s uncanny robotic run emerged as a dark brown silhouette, accented by the blue lights on his joints. The strange form quickly became larger.

  It didn’t appear to be slowing down.

  “Robbie?” Craig said one last time before the MAD bot leapt into the air and came crashing down upon him.

  At the very last instant, Craig managed to put his arm up and block the attack, but the blow still knocked him hard to the ground. He kicked at the robot and knocked it away from him, sending it crashing to the ground a few meters away. “Robbie! Stand down!” he commanded.

  The robot didn’t obey. Instead, it charged at him again, appearing from out of the yellow dust, barreling toward Craig’s chest.

  “Goddamn it!” Craig shouted as he blocked the attack, b
ackhanding Robbie to the side, sending the robot tumbling as it struggled to stay on its feet. The machine was faster than Craig, but its balance, although serviceable, was still inferior to that of a human. Craig used this advantage, along with the strength of his exoskeleton, which was equal to Robbie’s, to stay in the fight. “Sleep, Robbie! Sleep mode!” he commanded desperately.

  Robbie had tumbled onto his side but he quickly snapped back up to his feet and began charging.

  It was clear that the robot was no longer Robbie; the Chinese A.I. had somehow taken control of the MAD bot. Craig’s only chance was to terminate the unit before it terminated him. With no time to pull out one of his guns, he would have to repel one last attack and get Robbie onto the ground again. He punched the robot as it reached him, badly denting its face and driving it backward into the dust. It fell to the ground once more, and Craig immediately stood atop it, planting his heels on its chest. He reached for his backpack and began to withdraw one of his guns so he could blast the machine in the head and chest to disable it.

  Before he could retrieve his weapon, however, it deftly swung its metal legs up under Craig’s pelvis and used a super-fast, powerful kick to drive Craig’s very human body upward and off of it. The impact sent Craig nearly three meters into the air, but far worse, it shattered his pelvis and lower spine, instantly paralyzing him below the waist. Craig landed in the dirt, face down, in shock, barely able to move.

  A second later, Robbie had him twisted around, tossing him onto his back. “No,” Craig said weakly as the machine drove its fist through the several layers of protection of the SOLO suit and grasped the front of his uniform, pulling his limp body, helmet and all, out of its protection as though he were a premature calf being roughly liberated from the dead body of its mother. Robbie tossed Craig roughly next to Wilson before quickly crawling into the SOLO suit and exoskeleton, assuming control and expertly retrieving the guns.

  “No,” Craig whispered weakly again as he watched. He remembered what Wilson had said about being exposed to the fallout, but he was helpless. He couldn’t feel his legs, and he couldn’t defend himself. All he could do was lie there on his side and watch as Robbie leapt into the crater, undoubtedly in search of the rest of the SOLO team.

  “SOLO team,” Craig said, mustering as much strength as possible as he tried to warn the rest of the men of the uncontrollable threat that was stalking them. “The A.I. has control of Robbie. Do you copy?” His voice barely crossed the threshold of a whisper. The radio returned only empty static. “No,” he said one last time.

  Flashes of light popped in the dust cloud of the crater like sheet lightning on a summer evening back on the farm. Each flash was a cruel joke—an exclamation point on the A.I.’s victory.

  “Not like this,” Craig whispered. “Not like this.” He tried to take a breath, but he couldn’t. “Samantha…” he began, his tone suddenly softening. “Sam. I don’t know if they’re going to let you see this, but just in case, I love you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it back to you. I wish…I wish we’d been born in a different time. You were the love of my life. You are the love of my life.” He looked back down at Wilson’s face, lifeless. The image was surreal. It seemed wrong. “Life is the most important thing, Sam. Keep living. No matter what. Keep living.”

  A few moments later, Robbie leapt preternaturally out of the crater and landed inches from where Craig remained, immobilized like an ant with its legs pulled off. The MAD bot aimed its gun, pointing the barrel squarely at Craig’s chest.

  “If you don’t want to see the future,” the A.I. began in Robbie’s juvenile voice, “then you have to die.”

  The gun thundered to life.

  Craig died.

  There wasn’t even blackness.

  PART 2

  1

  WAKING UP wasn’t a choice. Even if one hoped to rest in peace, eternal sleep was no longer an option.

  Craig opened his eyes, his head in a hazy stupor, but the picture quickly became understandable. He was in a bed, his wife nearby to the left, the room small and sterile. “I’m alive,” he whispered.

  “Yes, you’re alive,” Samantha replied, her lips smiling while her eyes told an altogether different story.

  “It was a trap,” Craig suddenly said. “The others—”

  Samantha stepped to him and took his left hand, causing him to suddenly realize that his wrist was in a restraint. “Craig, you’re alive. You’re safe. I’ve missed you more than you can know.” She placed her head on his chest and put an open palm on his heart. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

  He wanted to hold her, but the restraints made it impossible. He could only move his left thumb against the side of her hand. “It’s okay, baby. I’m alive. We’re going to be okay, no matter what. I won’t leave you again—not ever.”

  She suddenly stood straight, her face tensed hard against some sort of hidden anguish. “But, Craig, there are things I have to tell you that won’t be easy to hear.”

  Craig read the sympathetic expression on her face. She hadn’t been to war, and she didn’t realize the strength of a serviceman. To her, the news that his team was dead seemed beyond words—but he knew he could handle it. He’d seen it with his own eyes, and he remembered it in vivid detail. “I’m ready,” he said softly as he nodded to his wife. “I can take it. My team. They didn’t make it. Right?”

  Samantha shook her head and looked down at Craig’s hand in hers. “No. They didn’t make it.”

  Craig nodded again and sighed as he looked up at the ceiling. “I remember. I remember Robbie killing them.”

  Samantha looked up suddenly, her eyes intently fixed on Craig’s, her expression one of curiosity. “How much do you remember?”

  “I-I remember fighting the robot. I remember it leaping into the crater, chasing down the others. From that point on, it’s a little fuzzy.”

  “Can you remember at all what happened to you?” she asked earnestly.

  He closed his eyes and tried to conjure up the memory. “I was injured. I wasn’t in my SOLO suit. I must have…passed out.”

  Samantha’s chest heaved as she tried in vain to control her breathing. Nothing could have prepared her for this situation—and it was about to get worse.

  “How’d…how did they get me out of there?” Craig asked.

  “It was your MAD bot. It’d been hacked by the Chinese A.I., but once it…finished with all of you, it released the MAD bot, and then Robbie returned to normal protocol. It collected your corpses and put you all into suspended—”

  “What?” Craig cut her off. “Corpses?”

  Samantha’s face was overwhelmed with emotion. “Craig,” she began, “you died.”

  His grip on her hand tightened. He’d been right. With a super soldier, everything was possible. He let go of a long exhale and then tried to relax against his pillow as he nodded once again. “The respirocytes kept my brain alive,” he said.

  She nodded. “Yes, and your MAD bot put you into the suspended animation bag. It dragged your entire team up to the extraction point on top of Maluan Mountain. The radiation levels were low up there. You were picked up…” She paused for a moment, seemingly having to will herself over a nearly insurmountable barrier before finishing, “You were picked up…when the war ended.”

  Craig’s breathing suddenly picked up. “When the war ended? Sam…how long has it been?” It couldn’t have been that long, Craig thought to himself, desperately. Sam hasn’t changed that much. Her hair is a bit different—something about her face—a bit smoother. Months? A year?

  Samantha inhaled and slowly blinked her eyes before placing her hand upon Craig’s chest in an attempt to calm him. “Craig, the war ended fourteen years ago.”

  2

  “His cortisol levels just spiked dramatically,” informed the voice from the shadows. “I’ll signal his nans to stimulate his hypothalamus to produce corticotrophin-releasing hormone accordingly.”

  “Just keep him calm,” Ald
ous Gibson replied as he stood inches from the LCD wall that served as a one-way window into the recovery room. “The play-by-play is not necessary.”

  “Understood,” replied the voice. “My apologies.”

  On the other side of the window, Craig’s panic was suddenly soothed. Against all reason, he was beginning to relax. “Fourteen years?” he whispered. He turned and regarded his side of the window; from where he was, it didn’t appear as a window at all, the screen running an image of a beige wall, tiny chips in the paint visible to sell the forgery.

  Samantha quickly noticed Craig’s sudden and unnatural calmness. She turned her head slightly and glared at the wall but didn’t dare shake her head, fearful of tipping Craig off to the fact that they were not alone.

  “You may have overdone it,” Aldous said quietly over his shoulder to the shadows. “Perhaps, rein it in a little.”

  Craig suddenly scoffed, a smile donning on his face. “A joke?”

  “Craig, I obviously wouldn’t joke about this.”

  The smile melted. “But I couldn’t have been…it’s impossible. You are thirty-two years old. You’d be forty-six now, but you look…” He squinted as he scrutinized her juvenile countenance, “twenty-five.”

  “I’m forty-six, Craig,” she quickly replied. “You are thirty-two, just as you were when you…” She paused for a moment as she struggled to find the right tone with which to say, “…died.”

  Craig was silent. His eyes were locked on hers, but the situation had moved into the realm of absurdity.

  She sighed and tried to relax her shoulders as she sat on the side of his bed. “So much has happened since you died. It’s hard to explain it.”

  “How can you still be so young looking?”

  “I’ve had a variety of treatments over the last decade,” she began. “We’ve had so many breakthroughs. You remember, Craig, when we used to talk about Moore’s Law?”